


afraid, but not

by archons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Romance, Disabled Character, Fluff, Holding Hands, Human Cole, M/M, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archons/pseuds/archons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their proximity meant he could see parts of Kahris he'd never noticed before. Sunlight caught strands of red in his otherwise brown hair. He could count the freckles over the bridge of his nose if he had enough time; they were clear against his skin this close. And he smelled nice, too. Like the herbs and flowers in Josephine's soaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	afraid, but not

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's](http://pavus.tumblr.com/post/122288199034) some amazing art of Kahris and Cole by the amazing [orokay](http://orokay.tumblr.com)!

He crafted the hand with wood from a walnut tree and scraps of druffalo hide.  
  
Inside the pen, Schmooples the Third stared up at Kahris with two beady eyes. She stood protectively over her half-dozen babies, though they couldn't be bothered to feel anything close to fear, content with crawling over each other to get at her teets. He settled down onto the ground beside the pen, one of the six held in his hands.  
  
_Inquisitor, I—_ was how the conversation with Leliana began. In the long months of knowing her, Kahris never once saw her fret in such a way. He knew her to be cool and collected, if prone to rash decisions. Only once or twice had he seen her look worried. But when she found him in the main hall, she looked absolutely desperate. She told him that Schmooples the Third had finally given birth, and that one of them had been born without its front hand.   
  
“You crafted your own prosthesis, did you not? I was hoping... that you might be able to make something for the baby. I can't bear the thought of losing one of them. She's already having trouble feeding!”

Kahris assured her that he would try. And try he did, in the time between audiences and meetings and travel and sleep. It only took two weeks for him to craft a small, five-fingered hand for the baby nug. In that time, the baby was nursed by hand by Leliana herself. No one in Skyhold was more eager to see it grow up healthy.  
  
The thing squirmed in his lap when he set it down, reaching over for the prosthesis laying on the grass beside his knee. People idling in the garden stopped to watch him as he fastened the tiny belt and checked to make sure the hand was secure. Once he was satisfied, he smiled as he set her down onto the grass.

She sniffed, her brown nose twitching once and then again before she pressed her face into the tall blades of grass. Once she was convinced they were harmless, she took a tentative step on the unfamiliar limb.

“There you go,” Kahris murmured, barely audible even to those who stood closest to him. Touching over her back risked knocking her off-balance, so he reached out to gently brush over her floppy ear instead. She squealed, but remained stable. “It'll take some getting used to, but you'll be okay.”

The nug walked around the grass for a while, smelling what the garden around the pen had to offer, and Kahris watched her like a hawk or a mother.

Leaning his chin onto his knee, he focused on her movement alone, letting the quiet hum of conversation all around him fade into nothing. Those who liked him would comment on how gracious he was, to spend so much time on such a small thing meant to help an animal. Those who disliked him would say he devoted too much attention to things that didn't matter. What they said would be theirs; he had no control over that. He did, however, have control over what he made with his own hands.

Only when footfalls on the grass closed in on him did Kahris look away from the nug and up to see who approached.

Cole stopped when he drew Kahris's attention, hands fretting in front of him even as he smiled. He only visited the garden when it was empty; Kahris knew because he did the same. At least, when there wasn't something specific that needed doing. “Blackwall said you would be here. He wants his tools back.”

“But he didn't say so,” Kahris filled in with a quiet chuckle. He pulled himself up onto his feet and walked over to the nug. She was faring better than some of her brothers and sisters from the looks of it. They still spent half of their time face-first in the hay. “Because he knows what I've been doing and doesn't want to feel like an ass for taking away from it.”

Nodding, Cole stepped closer and closer still. He leaned over to look at the nug in the grass. His face lit up when he saw her walking around, stopping occasionally to press her sloped nose to the pen to sniff out her siblings.

“He wishes he could do such small work, but it isn't small.”

Kahris lifted up the nug and set her down inside of the pen. She squealed horribly, drawing the attention of the few people left in the garden. Most of them were gone by then, called to dinner or tired of the relatively featureless gardens. “In size, maybe.” Smiling down at the nug, he leaned against the pen and allowed himself a relieved breath and a rush of pride.

“She can be like the rest of them now.” Cole moved to stand next to him, watching as the little nug teetered and wobbled over to her mother on the hay. “There isn't anything small about that.”

“Mm... I know what you mean.” Kahris flexed the fingers on his right hand. All but two of them curled in towards his palm. His ring and smallest fingers stayed straight, made of ironbark and quillback leather rather than flesh and bone. “It doesn't matter how you lose something. If it's not there...”

Cole's fingertips brushed lightly over his knuckles before following the designs carved into the wood. “They're there. You still feel them sometimes.”

“I remember what it was like,” Kahris explained before turning towards him. His left hand replaced the right, and he lifted Cole's up, palms pressed together. “My hands have always been the best part of me.”

A quiet moment passed between them. Cole stared at their hands, and Kahris stared at Cole, following his eyes with his own.

Their hands couldn't have been more different. Cole's were long-fingered and slender. Blue veins stood out against his pale skin, curling together from his wrist to his knuckles. Kahris's hands were shorter. His palm was broader; his fingers were thicker. Tiny ivory scars scored his skin, most of them from careless mistakes while crafting.

“They're different, but they're the same thing.” Cole spoke slowly, his fingers bending over the tips of Kahris's. “I like that about them.”

“Everyone has different hands. Even if they're the same size, they're different if you pay enough attention to the details.” Turning Cole's hand over in his own, Kahris stretched his fingers out to show him the lines in his skin. An old scar ran across one of Cole's fingers, likely from a poorly gripped dagger in the hand of a scared boy. “Details can be important, you know? Sometimes.”  
  
Cole watched closely as Kahris traced a blunt nail over the whorls in his skin. Something twisted in his stomach, like worry but _better_. It still scared him. The fear settled over his skin with the warmth of a smile. How could he be afraid, but not? It seemed impossible.  
  
Their proximity meant he could see parts of Kahris he'd never noticed before. Sunlight caught strands of red in his otherwise brown hair. He could count the freckles over the bridge of his nose if he had enough time; they were clear against his skin this close. And he smelled nice, too. Like the herbs and flowers in Josephine's soaps.  
  
Thyme came to him with his next breath. He remembered it from the kitchen. They put it in everything.

“Will you look out for her?”

When Kahris looked up at him, Cole saw the honey in his eyes, too. A warmth spread up the back of his neck and into his cheeks. “Her?” he asked.  
  
“The nug,” Kahris said, tilting his head in the direction of the pen. As if on cue, a couple of the babies squeaked and squealed. “When I'm away and Leliana is too busy with her work to watch them... which is often... more than often, really.”  
  
Cole began to nod, eager to help, but stopped with a thought. “... You always bring me with you.”

Kahris's eyes went wide. Their honey flashed to gold when the light caught the color and made it glow. He started glowing, too, only a moment later, cheeks darkening to a deep red. Still, he held onto Cole's hand with both of his. “Ah, I... I do, don't I? That's a silly question, then.”

“If you ever go alone, I will watch her.”  
  
“I appreciate that,” Kahris mumbled, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder as if he could erase the blush. “But you know I won't.”  
  
Cole smiled, crooked and bright. His fingers twitched, touch-warm where their skin met, and Kahris only held onto him tighter, as if to prove his point. “You don't bring me with you everywhere.” His voice held a note of pride, keen to prove that he'd spoken too soon. He wanted to watch the nug for Leliana and for Kahris. They both loved her. “When Skyhold is home, I don't see you much.”

Kahris cast his embarrassment aside and found Cole's eyes again. “Things are harder than they were before. There's so much that needs to be done.” As he spoke, he began curling Cole's hand into a loose fist, something easier to hold and easier to bring to his lips. His words lost their clarity when his lips caught on Cole's knuckles, but neither of them could find the will to care. “I wish I could just sit with you in the Herald's Rest every now and then. The name would actually make sense if I ever got to rest there. Or ever.”  
  
“You _should_ .” Cole stared down at him from under his tangle of bangs. His smile softened to something tender and toothless. “The Inquisition is just a word without you. Just people asking questions and going nowhere.”  
  
“Maybe sometime,” Kahris whispered. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
Cole followed suit.  
  
“Would you like that?”  
  
The question made Cole's heart thump in his chest.  
  
“Like?” He tasted the word. It reminded him of heads bowed close in the White Spire, fingers tangled together, red cheeks in the light of a single candle. It reminded him of two people standing the way he and Kahris were, and that realization led to another. _Like_ tasted like a beginning. “I would.”

Kahris beamed against the skin of Cole's hand before looking up at him, cheeks as dimpled as they were pink. He let their hands fall, but refused to let go. If Cole didn't want him to, he wouldn't. “We should get to dinner before the Chargers, or there'll be no bread left. Just lots crumbs.”

Cole's laugh was like water over rocks, and it _sparkled_. “It's alright. Dalish and Skinner already eat enough. Sera says so.”  
  
“Sera's jealous, is all.” Kahris led him in the direction of the hallway that opened into the dining hall. “I'd hate to miss the rolls. You have to taste them with honey and butter. I never knew how good food could be until I spent more time around humans. Maybe you'll like it enough to make eating easier!”

Cole followed, hand in his, lagging behind despite the length of his gait. He didn't want to give Kahris an excuse to let go or take away a reason to lead. He wanted to go wherever Kahris did; that was his reasoning behind finding him in the first place. And he liked watching him from this angle.

Every time he caught the edge of his smile, his heart twisted itself into aching knots.  
  
He liked that.


End file.
